


have your friends collect your records

by PorcupineGirl



Series: A Lot Like Life [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Bondage, Dom Bitty, Hair-pulling, Jack and Kent figuring out how to be friends again, Jack and Kent hashing things out, Jack in Las Vegas, Jack is not good with words, Jossed, M/M, Nude Photos, Old Friends, Past Kent Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Sub Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8094877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Kent is Jack's past. Bitty is his future. But Bitty also has a present for him...





	1. Present Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series - there's nothing that won't make sense if you read it as a standalone, though, as long as you know that in the first fic Jack and Bitty decided they want to try some BDSM play. It's canon divergent in that Shitty and Lardo know, and will probably be even further divergent after LVA @ PVD. **Edit:** Oh god, I knew this would be jossed but I had no idea how thoroughly and utterly jossed it would be. *sob*
> 
> Title from _Somebody That I Used to Know_

As it turns out, there is… _a lot_ of information online about tying people up. Eric had assumed there would be, but it is still… _a lot_.

He's spent the past two weeks reading all sorts of amazing things in an incognito window, emailing Jack links to his private account instead of texting them so nothing is out where people might see it over his shoulder. Or worse, accidentally get sent to the group chat.

As he reads more and more about this whole domination thing, it sounds better and better. He was kinda worried at first that everything he'd find would be cruel and sadistic, but it's clear that—if done right—BDSM is only that way if both parties _want_ it to be. There are a lot of other ways to do it, and as Eric and Jack send links and comments back and forth, it seems clear that they're on the same page there.

He wants to take care of Jack, make him feel good, give him whatever he needs. But he also kind of just really likes the idea of Jack wanting to please him— _wanting him_ enough to want to please him, to do what he's told. The bondage would be secondary to him except for the fact that Jack clearly wants it badly, and Jack wanting it makes Eric want to give it to him.

So by the time he goes back to Providence for a night, a couple of weeks after Jack visited Samwell, they've agreed on some things. Bitty has a length of rope in the bottom of his overnight bag, which Jack knows about—as well as a pair of leather cuffs that Jack doesn't know about. Jack doesn't have to wear them if he doesn't want to, but Eric is pretty sure he will. He tried them on, and they're soft and wide and probably way more comfortable than having rope tied directly around your wrist.

Also, every time he pictures Jack wearing nothing but the cuffs, he gets half-hard almost immediately.

Jack picks him up from the train station, which is always frustrating. Eric loves that he gets to see Jack even ten minutes sooner than if he took an Uber to his apartment, of course, but he hates that they have to behave themselves in public. That the first thing they do when they see each other can't involve kissing or holding each other, nothing more than a quick one-arm-back-pat-bro-hug.

As soon as they're in Jack's car, he can't hold back his grin.

"I brought a surprise for you, sweetheart."

Jack smiles and reaches over to lay a hand on his knee, raising one eyebrow curiously.

"Oh really? Is it baked goods?"

Eric rolls his eyes. "Well, I brought some mini-pies, too, but _that's_ not much of a surprise."

"Hm. Do I get a hint?"

"No, you do not! I let you start wheedling hints out of me, and you'll have me giving it all away before we even get into your parking garage."

"Well fine then, if you're going to be like that about it, maybe we should talk about the French quiz you had this morning, eh? How'd that go?" Jack looks far too smug at his choice of topic change.

"Ha! Joke's on you, mister, I did just fine. I think. Probably. I told you she wouldn't ask us to conjugate any verbs, it was just straight vocab."

They chat about his classes for a few more minutes until they pull into Jack's parking spot.

Eric finds himself getting antsy as they wait for the elevator, Jack casting ever more suspicious looks his way.

The moment Jack's apartment door is closed, he drops his bag on the floor and pulls Jack close. It still surprises him now and then—the fact that he can initiate things, that he can take what he wants and Jack is thrilled to give it. He feels silly, until he remembers how new this really is. They can't have spent an entire three weeks total in each other's presence since their first kiss; maybe it's okay to still be surprised sometimes at the physical liberties he's allowed when they're alone together.

Jack crowds him back against the door as they kiss, his hands sliding down to cup Eric's ass. In response, Eric hitches his right leg up around Jack's hips and makes a pleased noise when Jack lifts him up so their faces are level. He pulls back from the kiss, biting his lip as he wiggles a bit between Jack and the door to get situated properly before wrapping his legs tight around Jack's waist. Jack's eyes are closed and he's already breathing hard, and Eric can't stop smiling even once they're kissing again.

"Bits," Jack breathes as Eric moves his mouth down to Jack's throat. He feels Jack's hands tightening on his ass, fingertips digging into his muscles.

Then suddenly, Jack pulls back with a gasp. Eric raises his head to see what's wrong, his brows knit.

"Wait, wait," Jack says with a lopsided grin. "When do I get my surprise?"

"Baby," Eric pants, threading his fingers through Jack's hair, "I am so glad you asked. I showed you that rope I bought?" Jack nods as he leans into Eric's hand, his eyes falling closed. "That's not the surprise, but I got a little something special to go along with it. Do you want to try that tonight, sweetheart?"

Jack's eyes fly open. "Yes," he says as he presses Eric harder into the door. "Yes, _please_."

The desperation in Jack's voice, in his face, brings to mind his begging the last time they were together, in Eric's room. _Lord_ , does Eric want to hear that as often as possible.

"Good," Eric murmurs, lips hovering millimeters from Jack's. "You're gonna be so good for me, aren't you, baby?"

He kisses Jack before Jack can reply.

They make out for a couple more minutes, until Eric is fully hard from the friction of Jack's body between his legs and Jack is starting to roll his hips in search of more.

"In my bag," Eric says softly as he nibbles on Jack's ear. "Let me down and take my bag back to your room."

Jack nods, and carefully lowers Eric until his feet can touch the floor again.

Once they're in the bedroom, Jack sets the bag down on the bed. Eric reaches out and takes him by the wrist, tugging so he turns around.

Eric lets his eyes travel down Jack's body as slow as he likes, imagining what he knows is underneath the Samwell t-shirt and cargo shorts (he has to keep himself from shaking his head at his silly Canadian, because _really_ , it's November). Jack squirms a little under the scrutiny, clearly unsure what he should be doing.

Eric pulls his own shirt over his head, but when Jack goes to follow suit, he stops him with a hand over Jack's arms.

"Kneel down," he says. "Let me."

Jack drops to his knees, and for a moment Eric just looks at him, playing with his hair and enjoying the sight of him. Then Eric squats down and slides his hands flat over Jack's abs, pushing the t-shirt up slowly, keeping their faces close enough that he can feel Jack's breath on him but not touching. Jack raises his arms as the shirt bunches up, and Eric pulls it off, still moving slowly to savor every inch of skin as it's exposed.

"Now you get to do my pants," Eric says, but when Jack reaches up for the zipper he tips Jack's chin up with a finger. "Eyes up, sweetheart."

Jack holds the eye contact while he opens up Eric's pants and tugs them down. Eric keeps a hand in Jack's hair just in case.

"Dear lord above, you are beautiful," he tells Jack, and he means every word. Eric cannot believe he has such a gorgeous man on his knees in front of him, ready— _eager_ —to do anything to please him.

His dick is straining against his blue boxer briefs, but when Jack slides a hand up his thigh and tries to touch it, Eric tugs sharply on his hair. It's not exactly a punishment—more like a warning and a distraction. An effective distraction, given the way Jack gasps and his eyes fall closed.

"No, honey, not right now." He lets go of Jack's hair, smooths it down. "Why don't you go lie down on the bed?"

While Jack climbs onto the bed, Eric digs through his bag until he finds the rope and the wrist cuffs. He runs a finger over the soft leather, smiling to himself.

He grabs his items and tosses the rest of the bag on the floor, then climbs over to straddle Jack, the cuffs held behind his back in one hand.

"Gimme your hand, baby." Jack holds out a hand obligingly, and when Eric winds the black leather strip around it he sees Jack's mouth fall open.

"What is that?" Jack asks. "What's that for?"

"Well," Eric says conversationally as he slides the multiple buckles into place, "I was worried about the ropes chafing your skin, so instead I found these. I think they'll keep you nice and comfy." He holds up Jack's wrist for inspection, the cuff closed around it. "And don't that just look gorgeous?"

He can see the look in Jack's eyes as Jack gazes at the cuff around his wrist. The way his eyes glaze over, his mouth goes slack. He made that happen, he knew Jack would like this.

"They're perfect," Jack says softly, running his other hand over the leather, then looks up into Eric's eyes. "It's so soft. It'll feel more like you're holding me down instead of the ropes."

Eric smiles and puts the other cuff on him. Then he helps Jack out of his silly Cargo shorts and sits back on his heels, looking down at his professional athlete wearing nothing but bulging charcoal boxer briefs and black leather cuffs on his wrists.

"Wish I could take a picture of you like this," Eric said, running a hand down Jack's chest. He sees Jack shiver at the touch. "Guess I just have to stare long enough that it's burned into my brain, huh?"

"You could," Jack says, shrugging one shoulder awkwardly. "I mean, we'd have to be careful. Nothing that goes up into the cloud or whatever, that's where the celebrity sex photo leaks always come from. But maybe—" Eric sees an idea spark in his eyes. "I just got a new memory card for my camera, a bigger one. We could use the old one. For these pictures. Keep it in the night stand." He smirks up at Bitty. "If you want copies to take home I'm sure we can find some way that's relatively safe."

Bitty bites his lip. "I could get a cheap flash drive just for that. Password protect it and all. You sure, baby?"

He can see Jack considering it. It's risky, but if they keep everything off their phones it shouldn't be hard to keep anything from leaking. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do it."

Eric leans down and kisses him. "Where's your camera, sugar?"

"Over there on my computer desk," Jack says, pointing to the corner of the room. "The old card is in the top drawer."

Eric retrieves the camera and changes out the memory card. He looks down at the camera for a second, then pops the card back out. He grabs a sharpie from the desk and writes a big X over the card.

"There. Last thing we need is getting those mixed up."

Once he's got the camera ready, he goes back over to the bed. Jack's shown him how to use this fancy camera—he doesn't know anything about focal length or shutter speed or anything, but he can use the autofocus and Jack taught him a little bit about framing shots.

He sets the camera down on the bed and looks at Jack thoughtfully. Jack is lying down, legs bent so his feet are flat on the bed, his hands folded over his abs. His cock is hard and thick, the tip starting to poke out the top of his underwear.

"Sit up a little," he instructs Jack. "Not all the way, just…" Jack props himself up on his elbows, and Eric kneels between Jack's knees.

"Perfect. Okay, I'm gonna take some pictures now. What's your color, sweetheart?" Once the photos are taken, they can't be untaken—they can be deleted, sure, but there are ways sometimes to retrieve stuff that you think is deleted, he's read about that. He wants to be sure that Jack is sure about this.

Jack gives him a soft smile. "Green."

He picks up the camera and takes a couple of shots. Jack doesn't quite know what to do—he looks off to the side bashfully. It doesn't really matter what Jack does; he's too beautiful to take a bad photo.

"Now lay back down, baby. Cross your wrists over your head."

Jack does as he's told. Bitty stands up over him, one foot to either side of Jack's hips. Jack still won't look directly at the camera, though he doesn't seem embarrassed.

Bitty lowers the camera and reaches into his own briefs.

"I knew those would look good on you," he breathes as he strokes himself. Jack's eyes lock onto the movement of his hand, and he swears Jack is breathing more heavily just watching him.

He sets the camera down on the bedside table and crawls to the end of the bed to get the rope.

"Now to get down to business," he says with a smirk as he pulls the rope back up to where Jack's wrists are still crossed.

He separates Jack's wrists and threads the rope through the rings on the cuffs. Then he ties it securely to one of the slats in Jack's headboard, tests the knot, then sits back to look at his handiwork. He's threaded the cuffs onto the rope one after the other, with no knots, so Jack can move his hands around a bit, sliding the cuffs up and down the rope.

Jack has his head tilted back, looking up at his bound hands. Eric can't help but place a few kisses down the side of his stretched-out neck, ending the last one with a little nip that makes Jack gasp.

"Is that comfortable?" he asks.

Jack tugs on the bindings, tests the limits of his new range of motion.

"That feels so good," he says, voice low. He's still looking up at his hands.

"Green, then?" Jack nods, but Bitty threads a hand through his hair and makes him look away from his hands for a moment. "Ah ah, Mister Zimmermann. I need to be sure."

"Green," Jack says, breathless. His eyes are wide as they stare into Eric's. Eric tightens his hand in Jack's hair, slowly but steadily until he knows it must hurt a little, and watches as Jack's eyes flutter closed.

Lord, he is glad Jack told him about this hair-pulling thing. He's going to be using that _a lot_.

He picks the camera back up and focuses above Jack, getting a couple shots of just his hands, the rope, and the cuffs. Then, on a whim, he climbs off the bed and kneels next to it.

Jack looks at him automatically, but Eric shakes his head. "Look up at your hands like you were before, honey. Just rewind a couple minutes."

Jack huffs in amusement, but does as he's told.

His profile is as stunning as the rest of him, and the bulge in his underwear is obvious from the side. When he looks up, his back arches just a little, and Eric can barely keep his hands off Jack long enough to take the photos.

"Enough of that," he murmurs to himself, setting the camera on the nightstand again. He climbs back onto Jack, straddling him, hands on Jack's shoulders.

Eric rolls his hips, letting their dicks drag against each other through the fabric of their underwear. Jack must be on a hair trigger, because just that makes him moan and arch his back and _dear lord_ , maybe Eric will have to consider a video someday. Jack all on his own is hotter than any porn he's gotten off the internet.

Eric moves down Jack's body until he can slide Jack's underwear off. Kneeling between Jack's knees again, he gives Jack's dick a couple of slow strokes once it's free. Jack looks down at him, and he very deliberately holds Jack's gaze as he bends down and swipes his tongue through the precome gathering in the slit. Jack's mouth falls open and a little sound like a breathy whimper comes out, making Eric smile.

Then Eric starts going down on Jack in earnest. He can hear the rope rattling the headboard as Jack pulls against his restraints.

They're not in the Haus, so Jack can be as loud as he wants here. He's not always that vocal during sex, but today he certainly is. Eric wonders if it's the ropes or just that kind of day as Jack moans.

"Bits—Bits, oh god, yeah, like that— _Eric, fuck_!"

Eric pulls off long enough to coat a finger in spit, and as he wraps his mouth back around Jack's cock he carefully nudges his finger into Jack's hole. He's careful not to take Jack in too deep at first—a good choice, since when he hits Jack's prostate Jack thrusts up with a shout.

"Sorry," Jack says, apparently coherent enough to realize he could have choked his boyfriend, "sorry, oh god, oh fuck, Eric, I'm not gonna last much longer…"

Eric hums in acknowledgement but keeps going, sucking harder. He can still hear the sounds of Jack straining against the rope, and tells himself next time he's going to do something that will let him watch properly. Maybe ride Jack's dick. The thought makes him wish he were at an angle where he could rub himself against Jack's leg more easily.

Jack comes a minute later, shouting and shuddering. Eric swallows it down, moaning, keeping up the pressure on Jack's prostate.

Once Jack is done, Eric climbs over him again, this time straddling his chest. He pulls his own dick out of his boxer briefs, sighing in relief as he starts to stroke it. He braces himself over Jack with one hand on the headboard, staring down at his gorgeous boyfriend in leather cuffs, tied down.

"Can I come on your face, baby?"

Jack had been panting, eyes closed, coming down from his orgasm, but at that his eyes fly open. "Yes. Yes, please, _please."_

And fuck if Jack begging again doesn't just push Eric straight over the edge, even though he can't have been jacking off for a full minute.

"I'm gonna—" is all the warning Jack gets, but luckily he seems to understand and closes his eyes just as warm stripes of come splash onto his cheeks.

Jack moans, loving this even though he's already come, and Eric feels like he's going to shake apart at the sight.

When he's finished, Eric doesn't move for a moment, catching his breath. Jack murmurs something about how hot that was, sounding half-drunk.

After a moment, Eric sits back and grabs the camera again. He takes one more photo, Jack with his eyes closed, hands still bound, face covered in Eric's come. There's a bit in his hair. With or without a photo, it's an image Eric will definitely be jacking off to on one of his lonely nights at Samwell.

Jack's eyes blink open—luckily, none of it ended up right on them—and he smirks when he sees Eric taking the photo.

"I'm a mess."

"That you are," Eric agrees. "Gimme a sec and I'll get you cleaned up."

Eric gets a washcloth and wipes Jack's face clean, then dries it, then undoes the rope. As soon as his hands are free, Jack's arms are around Eric and pulling him down to be forcibly cuddled. Eric goes willingly, kissing Jack's face as Jack rolls them over so he's on top.

"That was so good," Jack says, sounding like he hasn't quite got his breath back even though he'd been lying there for several minutes.

The smile on Jack's face, so open and relaxed and loving, leaves Eric speechless for a moment, so he just nods. He is so in love with this boy.

He pulls Jack down into a kiss, and they lie there for a few moments, kissing and touching and murmuring sweet nothings. Eventually Jack pulls away, and the intense look in his eye makes Eric think he's about to say something vitally important.

"I love you. I love you so much."

Well, that's… wonderful, but Eric is a little bit confused. "I love you too, honey," he replies anyhow.

"No, I—I worry, sometimes. I'm so bad with words, and I worry I'm not making it clear, how I feel about you. You mean so much to me. I'm so… Eric, I am so _deeply_ in love with you. I've never felt this way, I didn't know I _could_ feel this way for someone."

"Jack." Eric knows he's blushing. It's silly, but he loves it when Jack uses his name like this—sure, everyone not on the hockey team calls him that, but when Jack says it it makes everything feel more intimate. He isn't sure, really, what Jack is getting at, but whatever it is he's sure he feels the same. "I know, baby. I love you so much. But don't be silly, Jack, you know full well you could feel this way, you've told me you loved Parse."

"See, that's just it. I was seventeen when I fell in love with Kent; we were kids, we didn't know what we were doing. We cared about hockey, partying, and each other, and the order they went in changed every day. If you honestly think that what I feel for you is anything like what I felt for him, then I'm obviously _not_ making myself clear. But I'm not sure I have the words to explain how it's different. It just… is. The way I trust you, the connection we have, it's so much more."

"Well, good." Eric cards his fingers through Jack's hair and tries not to sound too smug about beating Kent Parson. "I've never been in love before, you know that, so I can't say I totally understand the difference. But whatever you've got for me, I want it. And however much you feel, believe me, me too. And I've never been so happy in my life. I knew I wanted to be with you, but I had no idea that loving you would make me so, so happy."

"I wouldn't do that, you know," Jack says suddenly. "Wouldn't have done that. With Parse. I wouldn't have let him tie me up even if I'd admitted to myself I wanted it."

Eric wants to hear more, but isn't sure what to ask, so he just slides his hand down to rest on Jack's bicep silently. Luckily, Jack continues after only a brief pause.

"I like how it feels, but I also like… the vulnerability? I guess is the word? And I couldn't have done that. With him. We loved each other, and I let down my guard more with him than anyone else, but there was always still…" Jack clenches his jaw, and Eric knows it's frustration at himself. "I don't know. I'm not explaining this very well."

Eric reaches up and touches Jack's face. "You are, sweetheart, you really are. And I am so honored that I get to see parts of you that nobody else ever has. I will never know how I got this lucky."

Jack presses his face into Eric's chest, snuggling deep into his arms. "Same, Bits."


	2. Past Conditional

A week and a half later, Eric is back in Providence. Jack has two nights off in a row, Eric has no classes after noon on Monday and only one lecture on Tuesday. Jack wasn't thrilled that he's skipping the lecture, but not enough to tell him not to come. Eric is letting him drive him back to Samwell early Wednesday to make sure he doesn't miss any more classes, and he's promised that he'll study while Jack is at practice Tuesday.

Eric swirls his finger absently through Jack's sparse chest hair as their conversation comes to a comfortable lull. They've been lying in bed for the past hour, talking. Naked, due to the activities that preceded the talking. Jack has been lying on his back the entire time, while Eric has been draping himself across his boyfriend in a variety of ways. He's learned a lot about his own sexuality in the past six months, including the fact that if they have sex too early to go to bed after but later than, say, dinnertime, he winds up spending the last couple of hours of the day in a strange state halfway between fidgety and lazy. He can't lie still, but he also has no desire to get out of bed. Jack never seems to mind.

Right now, he's sprawled half on Jack, stomach down, head on his breastbone, feet idly kicking in the air. He twists his head to look up at Jack, sliding a hand under his chin for support.

"So. You're playin' in Vegas next week." Jack sighs and looks up at the ceiling. "Thoughts? Feelings? Parse's address, to which I will send absolutely no suspicious packages except for maybe one and it definitely would not contain dog poop?"

Eric's feels Jack's chest shudder beneath him with laughter, then closes his eyes as Jack runs a hand through his hair, leaning into the touch.

"You've given this far too much thought."

Eric snorts. "What on earth are you talking about, I definitely have not been making a list of terrible things to do to Kent Parson ever since I woke up on December 15th, 2014."

Jack sighs, and Eric opens his eyes. Yeah, that's exactly the sad look he expected to see on Jack's face. Damn Parson.

"He wasn't always like that," Jack murmurs, playing with a lock of Eric's hair. "He was an enabler when we were kids, but he wasn't mean to me. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he knew my weaknesses, but he didn't poke at them like he does every time I see him now."

Eric knows this. They've talked a good bit about Jack and Kent's history. It doesn't make him like Kent any more, quite honestly, knowing he wasn't always _completely terrible_ to Jack. What he overheard that one night was bad enough to fuel a lifetime of dislike.

"And it's not like he has no reason to be mad at me. I never even tried to explain why I stopped talking to him. His best friend and boyfriend almost died, and he didn't have any other friends close enough to talk about that kind of thing with."

Eric frowns. Jack's never tried to _excuse_ Parse's recent behavior toward him.

"He can be mad at you without being a manipulative asshole about it. You made a mistake when you were a frightened and very ill teenager. He's an adult who chooses to do this over and over."

"Yes. I know. I'm not saying it's okay, the way he's been treating me. But I know he's capable of better, and I'm wondering. If I apologized, and he accepted it, and he apologized, and agreed to stop whatever this bullshit is he's been pulling for the past few years… If maybe we could be friends again, at least on some level."

Eric doesn't say anything. He thinks that this sounds like a horrible idea, and that Parse doesn't deserve another chance. Doesn't deserve _Jack_. But he also knows that he's the one part of Jack's past that Jack has never managed to get closure on. And, from what Jack has said, Parse _was_ a halfway decent friend and boyfriend before the overdose, aside from encouraging Jack to drink more than he should have. So he can understand, a little bit, why Jack would want to try to reconnect.

"I can feel you questioning my judgment," Jack says. "It's coming off of you in waves."

"I'm really not, sweetheart," Eric says as he lifts himself off Jack's chest and scoots up so their faces are level. He braces himself on one elbow over Jack and kisses his boyfriend's nose. "What you're feeling coming off of me in waves is my conviction that Kent Parson doesn't deserve to have you as a friend. But I don't give a shit about him; all that matters is you. And I know that being friends with him again—the not-asshole version of him—would make you happy, so I'd be all for that. The problem is, you had to list off a whole bunch of steps before you got to the 'maybe we could be friends again' part, and only one of those is something you have control over. So my question for you is: if he won't do all of those things, and you can't be friends again—will you feel better about the situation because you made a good faith effort to fix it, or will you just feel like shit because he didn't care enough to try?"

Jack stays quiet for a moment, his eyes wandering off to some point over Eric's shoulder. Eric plays with his hair and lets him think.

"A few years ago," he finally says, "it would have been the latter. I would have felt like there must be something wrong with me, if he doesn't see me as worth the effort. Hell, that's half the reason he was able to get me back into bed, because as soon as he started being an asshole to me, it made me feel like I was the one who wasn't good enough, so then even him… _deeming me worthy of sex_ was like an accomplishment. Last year was the first time it didn't work. Well, not for very long anyhow, before I realized that I didn't crave his approval enough to put up with the abuse anymore."

Jack smiles at Eric, tightening the arm that's been around his waist. "I've made some huge strides in the past two years, in terms of seeing myself as a person who matters even off the ice. It's almost as though someone came into my life who made me want to be a better person, but saw good things in me even when I wasn't."

"I am far from the only person in your life who sees good things in you, Mr. Zimmermann."

"Of course. Shitty forced me to admit that _maybe_ I was allowed to have friends and socialize. And Lardo accepted my quiet, antisocial side just in time to balance him out. Without them, I wouldn't have been ready when I met you."

"As if you were ready for me." Eric grins. He knows full well that Jack had absolutely no idea what to make of him at first.

"Definitely not," Jack says with an adorable little nose-crinkling smile that Eric has only ever seen directed at him. "But if I'd met you my freshman year, I would _not_ have been able to handle you being so kind to me. I would have thought, 'I was an asshole to him, and now he's being nice to me; he must want something from me, probably a connection to my father' and I would have pushed you away much harder. And kept pushing until you stayed away."

"I didn't even know who your father was!"

"Hush, I didn't know that. Anyhow, _Shitty_ was nice to me even when I was an asshole to him, but he clearly didn't want anything, he was just batshit crazy. Which is the only reason that when I met _you_ , I was able to even entertain the idea that it was anything other than manipulation. Maybe even something to admire and learn from. I'm definitely not as nice as you yet, but I have learned to be kinder to myself. So no, if Kent won't play nice, I won't blame myself. I'm not sure that 'feel better' is the right way to put it, but I think I'd at least feel like I was ready to put him behind me permanently."

Eric bites his lip as he wonders if he's ever been so proud of anything as he is right now of having any small part in helping Jack find his self-worth. But he's even prouder of Jack, who had to do a lot more of the work for that to happen.

"So you gonna call him, then?"

Jack rolls his eyes. "He'll call me. I've never been the one to initiate contact, and I think if I did now there's a good chance he'd either be suspicious or see it as a weakness to be exploited. Even if it's not really, I don't want to give him ammunition. He can't show up unannounced this time, so he'll call."

"Well, you know I've got your back whatever happens. Hell, if you do become friends again, I'd even be willing to be in the same room with him and remain civil just because I love you so much."

"And you're totally okay with me trying to reconnect with an ex?"

Eric can't help the grin that spreads across his face. He leans down to bump his nose against Jack's.

"If you're asking if I'm jealous, no, silly. If you meet with him, I'll be worried about you, but I won't be worried about _that_."

He knows Jack's no cheater. And he honestly believes that Jack has enough self-respect to not go running back to Parse, even if he and Bitty did somehow break up in the next week.

Jack returns his grin and leans his head up to kiss him. Eric presses into the kiss, feeling a new wave of love for this ridiculous man swell up inside him.

Jack pulls back, then kisses the tip of Eric's nose.

"I don't know if I'll want to for sure, but… would you mind if I told him? About us?"

"You wanna tell _Parse?_ " Eric raises an eyebrow. "Of all people? You don't even know if he's willing to treat you like a human being but you're thinkin' of trusting him with that?"

Jack shrugs. "Trusting him isn't an issue. It's mutual assured destruction."

He has a point.

"I mean, I guess I don't really mind, I just don't understand why."

Jack sighs, pulling Eric in so he's snuggled against Jack's chest. "Even if he apologizes and is willing to try to be friends again, he is going to try to get me into bed," he starts.

Eric looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Honey, I know saying you have a boyfriend is the easy way out, but if he wouldn't respect your wishes when you're single—"

"I know! I know." Jack smooths a hand down Eric's back and sighs again. "That's not what I mean. Well, not really. I agree, if he'll only stop pushing if he knows I'm dating someone, then he's not really ready to be friends. And maybe I won't want to tell him at all, we'll see how things go. But under the right circumstances, it might just make things simpler if he knew. Take away all temptation."

"You don't think he's the type to keep pushing anyhow? Try and get you to cheat?" Eric can't hide the incredulity he feels at the idea that Parse has any morals at all.

"No, no, no. Parse may be many kinds of asshole in different situations, but he does not look kindly on cheating. His father cheated on his mother, left her for another woman when he was young. As far as he's concerned, if you aren't willing to be faithful, you shouldn't commit to a relationship at all. I doubt that's changed in the past few years."

"If you say so." Eric sighs and snuggles closer. "You do what you think is best, baby. You know I'll support you no matter what."

—

Jack was right; Tuesday evening, Jack's phone rings, and when Eric picks it up from the coffee table Kent's name is on the screen. He hands it to Jack without saying a word. Unless his eyebrow counts as a word, which it probably does.

Jack surprises him by putting it on speakerphone.

"I thought I might be hearing from you, Kent."

"Don't sound so excited, Zimms. When do you get in? You guys coming in day of or the night before?"

"We're flying into Vegas Wednesday evening, I think we're supposed to get in around six."

There's a slight pause, like Kent is hoping Jack will keep going, will extend an invitation himself so Kent doesn't have to. Eric barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes.

"So what do you say, man? You comin' over or what? What time should I send a car?"

Eric sees Jack's jaw clench ever so slightly before he replies. "I'd like to see you, Kent, but not at your place. Somewhere public."

"Oh, come on, Zimms. We both know we'll end up there eventually, so why don't we just order in?"

" _Parse_ ," Jack snaps, the arm he has around Bitty's waist tightening unconsciously, "I said I wanted to see you, not sleep with you. We're not hooking up, and I'm not going to your place. I'd like to have an actual conversation with you, if you'd deign to allow it."

"Well, it's not like we can have a _real_ conversation about anything _important_ in public," Kent replies testily, "so why don't you give up this moral high ground bullshit and just get your ass over to my place?"

"Are you kidding me? It's your town, Kent. And it's _Vegas_. Don't tell me there aren't half a dozen restaurants you could call up and get us a private room on ten minutes' notice." Eric tries not to smirk at Jack's thoroughly unimpressed face, but mostly fails.

"Fine, fine. I'll get us a table somewhere. But jeez, Jack, what kind of douchebag do you think I am?" Eric bites his lips and looks away, thinking of all the things he could say if it weren't on speakerphone. "I wouldn't go swinging my celebrity dick around on ten minutes' notice. _Some_ of us _appreciate_ service workers, Zimms. I wouldn't give 'em less than twenty minutes, fifteen at the bare minimum."

Jack rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. "Whatever it takes, Kenny. Text me the name of the restaurant and I'll see you next Wednesday, eh?"

"Will do. Still say it's unnecessary, though, Zimms. You shouldn't've tossed me outta your room before we got to the good stuff last time I came by Samwell—"

"You probably don't want to remind me of that night if you want to see me at all on Wednesday," Jack cuts him off, his voice gone cold. "Just some friendly advice."

"Right. Whatever. See you Wednesday, Zimms."

—

Jack takes the team bus from the airport to their hotel, but when some of the guys start talking about dinner as they're getting off the bus, he demurs.

"Even you're not antisocial enough to turn down dinner during a roadie," Snowy says, looking at him suspiciously. "You got other plans?"

"Yeah, I'm—" Jack notices half the team listening expectantly. "Yes, I'm meeting up with Parse, okay? You all obviously already know, why are you asking?"

"You sure that's a good idea?" Thirdy asks, eyebrow raised.

"I heard you two aren't exactly buddies anymore," Poots adds hesitantly.

"You need us to come along, kill him for you?" Tater asks far too seriously for Jack's comfort.

"It's fine, guys. Yes, we had a falling out after my overdose. I'm hoping we can bury the hatchet. If not, well, extra motivation for tomorrow, eh?"

His teammate mumble good luck in a variety of ways—except for Tater.

"But seriously, Zimmboni," Tater mutters as they go into the hotel, "you need help hiding body, you let me know, yes?"

The fact that he winks afterward is only slightly comforting.

"You're a little bit scary, you know that, Tater?"

Tater breaks out in a grin and slaps him on the back. "Good, good. Make sure Parson knows that."

 

When Jack gets to the restaurant, he's shown to a small private room in the back. Parse is already there, fiddling with his phone at the table, a glass of wine already in front of him.

"Hi," Jack says awkwardly as he approaches the table. Kent looks up, looks honestly pleased to see him. It's not the cocky mask he's been wearing most of the times Jack has seen him recently. It's a start.

"Hey, Zimms, have a seat," Parse says as Jack sits. "Welcome to Vegas."

They're not really alone for the first five minutes or so, between someone bringing Jack water, taking his drink order, bringing out the appetizer Kent already ordered, taking their food orders. They make safe small talk while the restaurant employees are bustling in and out.

As soon as they are alone, Kent's demeanor changes immediately. Jack isn't sure how it's possible to swagger while sitting down at a table, but Kent manages it, letting his eyes drag down Jack's body.

"You look good, Zimms."

Jack rolls his eyes, not that he's the least bit surprised.

"Not a date, Kent. We've been over this."

"Yeah, sure it's not." Kent winks. "You keep telling yourself that. You gonna tell me again in the morning?"

"No, because I won't see you tomorrow until the game," Jack says simply.

"C'mon, Zimms. Can we stop this playing around shit? You made your point." Kent's tone is placating, but not as condescending as Jack would expect. "We're on neutral ground. I wanna talk to you, not just get you into bed. But let's not pretend that's not where this is going."

"I want to talk to you, too, but bed is not part of the equation." Jack manages to keep his voice even. It's not hard, not yet, because he's not truly frustrated—he was expecting exactly this. "Do you want to be friends with me or not, Kent?"

"Honestly?" Something about Kent's tone, his posture, his expression, it all shifts subtly. Jack can't quite tell if what he's seeing is sincerity, or a carefully calculated simulacrum. "What I _wanted_ was for you to move here so we could actually be together again. If fuckbuddies is all I can get, I'll take it, but cards on the table, you mean more to me than that. I don't know why you can't see that."

For some reason, this pisses Jack off so much more than Kent just pushing for sex, or even insulting him to get him into bed. That he would try to pretend that this is about actual feelings, as if he's treated Jack like anything more than an object for years now…

"I see just fine," Jack snaps. "You're pissed that I didn't drop my entire life to do what you wanted me to do. You can't honestly think that if I'd joined the Aces, we'd just pick back up like nothing ever happened. That's not how life works. But if I had chosen the Aces, it would have been proof that you still have a say in how I live my life, and you wanted _that_ , not me."

"Bull. Shit." Kent leans forward, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. Jack wishes he could believe that Kent's honestly offended that Jack thinks that of him, but it's more likely he's just pissed at being called out. "I don't know where you got this idea that I don't care about you, that all I want to do is fuck with your head."

"Because that's what you try to do every time I see you!" Jack has to hiss the words to keep himself from shouting loud enough to be heard outside their private room.

Kent doesn't do the same.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what else to do!" He takes a breath, then lowers his voice to a reasonable volume. "You fucking cut me off, Zimms, cold turkey, when I really fucking needed a friend. For two years, I tried to just say hi, just reconnect like anyone else would. You wouldn't respond to that, so, yeah, I got pissed. But hey, look at that, when I show up unannounced to fucking confront you, you won't give me an explanation but you're sure as hell ready to jump into bed. So I took what I could get, Zimms, and the only way I could get it was by provoking you."

"That's great, Parse. You figured out which buttons to push to get me to sleep with you and you kept pushing them, and now you're mad because your toy broke and it doesn't dispense sex—"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Kent is shouting again, and Jack doesn't think it's a coincidence that their food arrives right then. They sit tensely while they're served, the waitress trying valiantly to act like everything is totally normal in the famous-hockey-players-yelling-at-each-other room.

The interruption serves its purpose, and though the air is still think with tension, Kent's voice is much lower when he continues.

"Fuck, Zimms, do you really not get it? I'll take sex because it's all I can get, it's the only way I can get _any_ of you. It's not the goal. I'm still in love with you, asshole."

Jack laughs in disbelief. "I can't believe you just fucking said that. Is there anything you won't say to try and pull my strings? Is anything beneath you?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? You believed I was in love with you back then! Trust me, Zimms, I don't need to pick a fight with you to get laid. I wouldn't keep coming back if I didn't still feel the same shit for you now that I did then."

Jack decides to give him the benefit of the doubt for a minute. He takes a deep breath to calm himself before he replies.

"FIrst off, it's been six and a half years. That's more than enough time to get over anyone. If you really, truly, haven't gotten over me, it's no one's fault but your own. And second—" He shakes his his head, knowing that Kent won't react well to this truth. "You can't possibly be in love with me, Kent. _You don't even know me anymore._ "

Kent's mouth actually drops open. "Of course I fucking know you! I know you better than anyone on earth, Zimms!"

"No, you _knew_ me," Jack says firmly. "The boy you knew is gone. He died of an overdose."

Kent's face goes white. Jack knows Kent's expressions well enough still to know that what he's seeing isn't an act, and as Kent's eyes widen he realizes that what he's seeing is near panic. Maybe Kent was being sincere, after all—at the very least, what Jack said has shaken him. Hard.

"Do _not_ fucking say shit like that, Jack." Kent's voice is shaking, and Jack almost feels bad. "Do you have any idea how thankful I was, even when you wouldn't say a word to me for years, that you were alive? Go ahead and assume I don't give a shit, go ahead and tell yourself I'm just trying to see how many Zimmermann notches I can get on my bedpost, but do _not_ fucking joke about that."

"I'm not joking, Kenny." Jack's voice is gentle now. Maybe they can make progress here after all. Maybe he can make Kent understand. Maybe Kent cares enough that there's still something to build. "He literally died. His heart stopped. When the doctors revived his body, he was gone. And I was left in his place, with no idea who I was or what my life was or where it could possibly go. I had to cut you out, but it was never your fault. I'm sorry for not explaining that at the time. I should have, and I'm sorry. I knew that I wasn't the person you loved anymore, and clinging to any part of that old life wasn't going to help me figure out how to live my new life. And the new life that I built, the new person I've grown into—you're not a part of that life, and you're not in love with that person. If you're in love with anything, it's the idea of a boy who doesn't exist anymore. I would love for you to get to know _me_ , and for me to get to know this person you are now. But we need to do that as _friends_ , and I think we need to start over with a clean slate to do it."

"Fuck," Kent breathes, and it's not quite a sob. He scrubs his hands over his face. Jack lets him take a minute—Jack needs a minute, too, to be honest. "Okay. Okay, I get it. We gotta start from scratch. If that's what it takes… let's do it." He smacks the table. "Boom. Clean slate. We'll be friends again, and see where it goes from there, yeah?"

Jack shakes his head. "It won't go anywhere from there, Kent. If we're friends, and that's all we ever are again, are you okay with that? Or a year from now are you gonna call me a tease and tell me you've been waiting long enough?"

Kent shakes his head, and the smile he gives Jack is just this side of flirtatious—but it is on this side of the line, which is progress. "Never say never, Zimms. But yeah, hey, I'm game. This is the new and improved Jack Zimmermann, and hey, maybe he's not actually a dude I'd fall for. Maybe we'll just be friends, and it'll all be chill, and I'll just be like damn, I'm glad Jack is my bro again, I can't believe I ever wanted to date that guy. Not what my money's on, but we'll find out, right?"

Jack laughs. That is possibly the most Kent Parson thing he's heard in a very long time. He doesn't think he's reading this wrong. He thinks Kent has been showing actual vulnerability, that Kent really does think he still has feelings for Jack. That Kent might actually be willing to make some attempt at letting it go so they can be friends again.

If he's wrong, well. He's lived for six and a half years without Kent Parson as a friend; he can do it again if he has to.

Kent leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. "So how are the Falcs treatin' ya? And don't censor yourself, man, this room is as good as a confessional booth, nothin' you say leaves here."

For the next hour, they actually manage to have a pleasant conversation. Now that Jack seems to have dislodged Kent from the mental rut he's been stuck in with regards to their relationship, it's actually really nice to meet the adult version of Kent Parson. He's a guy Jack can definitely see himself being friends with, with just enough echoes of the boy that used to be there to remind Jack of why they fell in love to start with. Not in any way that makes him want that again, but sometimes, when Kent has come by Samwell and been a douche, Jack has seriously wondered what he ever saw in the guy. He's wondered if his younger self had been brainwashed somehow, or confused their chemistry on the ice with actual chemistry.

But no, this makes sense. Kent is charming and humble and funny, and Jack doesn't blame Young Jack at all for falling for the teenage version.

The adult version isn't at all what Adult Jack would want in a partner, and that's a bit of a relief. Not that he'd thought for a second that Bitty would have any actual competition, but he had wondered if there'd be a moment or two of temptation. There's not. Eric is everything Jack wants or needs in that department. Kent is someone he'd like to be friends with. There's no confusion between the two.

When the check comes, Kent insists on getting it, saying Jack will owe him next time he's in Providence. Jack likes the idea of them making a tradition out of it, swapping dinners in each others' cities, rediscovering each other over time. He's actually looking forward to it.

But then, after the bill is paid and they're lingering over Kent's glass of wine while their conversation slowly winds down, something shifts. Kent's smiles grow just a bit more charming, and he's looking at Jack just a bit more through his lashes than before. Jack braces himself, because he knows exactly what's coming.

Sure enough, pretty soon Kent is leaning toward him, reaching a hand out and brushing his thumb over Jack's fingers.

Jack sighs and pulls his hand away. "Kenny…"

"Ah, c'mon, Zimms. I'm not here to push you or twist your arm or piss you off to get you into bed. I'm sorry I did that shit before. I was desperate, but that's no excuse for being such a dick. I'm not gonna pull that kind of shit here. If you really don't want this, I'll back down, I swear. No hard feelings. But just 'cause we're friends doesn't mean there can't be a few benefits thrown in here and there. You know we're almost as good together in the sack as we are on the ice, why not have a little fun?"

Jack studies Kent intently, his lips pressed together. He doesn't want to use Bitty as a shield. If Kent won't respect his boundaries, they can't be friends—and backing down just because he has a boyfriend isn't the same as respecting Jack's actual wishes. But…

He might be an idiot, but he thinks he believes Kent this time. He thinks if he said no, Kent would back down. But he'd try again later. And he'd keep trying every time they see each other. He'd keep some little part of himself hoping that Jack would eventually see the light and take him back. And when Jack and Bitty do go public, he'd probably be hurt that Jack kept it from him all that time.

Kent's done a decent job tonight of making an honest attempt at being friends, so Jack thinks it's probably just kinder to put all his misguided hopes for them to rest for once and for all.

"I'm seeing someone," he finally says.

Surprise flashes through Kent's eyes, but soon his ever-so-chill mask is firmly in place. He shrugs one shoulder.

"Yeah, so? I see a lotta people. Trust me, I've got more than a couple standing overnight invitations when we play certain teams. But I'm not even asking for that, man. Just one night."

"I mean I have a boyfriend, Kenny. We've been together for a few months now. It's… it's pretty serious."

Kent blows out a hard breath and rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Well, fuck, Zimms, why didn't you lead with that? Coulda saved me embarrassing myself, shit. This whole time, I'm sitting here telling you I'm in love with you when you've got a fucking boyfriend."

"I needed to know that you'll respect what I want because _I want it_ , Kent. If you hadn't convinced me of that, I wouldn't be telling you about him now. I don't want to be friends with someone who thinks someone else's claim over me matters more than my actual wishes."

"Yeah, yeah." Kent waves a dismissive hand in Jack's direction. "God, New Jack is so fucking… _mature_. Christ, whatever therapists you've been to really know their shit, maybe I should give 'em a call."

Jack snorts. "Oh, Kenny, you don't mean that. We both know the last thing you want to do is grow up."

Kent grins and flips him off.

"So how much does your boy know about, y'know. Us?"

"Most of it. Everything that matters."

"I'm guessing he knows you're here?"

"Of course."

Kent nods. "Please at least tell me he's a _little_ jealous. If you won't stroke anything else, at least stroke my bruised ego here, Zimms."

Jack shakes his head, laughing. "Sorry, he's really not. It's not your fault, though, he's just not the jealous type. Which, actually, is a little surprising. He can be kind of passive-aggressive sometimes, I could totally see him pretending not to be jealous when he's actually seething inside. But no. I think he just knows he's got me wrapped around his little finger."

The look on Kent's face is indecipherable, although he's smiling a little. He shakes his head like Jack just did something adorable.

"Holy shit, man. Did your face ever light up like when you talked about me?" Jack blushes and looks down, picking at the tablecloth. "Ugh, damn it. This is the part where I have to act like a mature fucking adult and tell you that I'm happy you're so happy and blah blah blah, right? Because we're _friends_ and shit now."

"Don't let me inconvenience you."

Kent is quiet long enough that Jack finally looks up. Kent is studying him.

"Just… tell me it's not that little blonde kid from your college team, okay?"

Interesting.

Jack raises an eyebrow and snorts, giving Kent a look that he knows will be taken as _are you kidding me?_ He doubts he's really fooling his old friend, but he doesn't want to give away his entire hand.

"Bittle? Huh. Why would you assume it was him? But more importantly—why do you want it not to be?"

"Please, Zimms. You think I just walked right up to you two at that party and started talking? I watched you. He was being pretty damn obvious, but honestly, so were you, even if I was probably the only one who could see it. I'll admit it, I was fucking jealous. I'm a petty douche who got way too much pleasure knowing he probably heard some of our conversation, and definitely saw us looking like we'd been making out. 'Cause I dunno, man, closet or no, I think if I hadn't shown up you were getting laid that night, bro."

Jack has wondered for almost a year if that would have been true.

Kent looks down at his wine glass and runs his tongue over his teeth the way he always does when he's got more to say, so Jack stays quiet.

"You know why I don't want it to be him?" he finally says, and when he looks up Jack can see how hard he's working to keep the hurt off his face. "'Cause if he could see and hear all that, but he's really not, like, the least bit jealous about you seeing me tonight? Then shit, man. You really are over me. Game over, do not pass Go. Guess I gotta give this whole 'just friends' thing an honest shot."

Jack's face softens. "Yeah. I guess you do."

"I fuckin' knew it, man! You are so transparent, Zimms. Damn it. Here I had this whole scenario worked out in my head where he was this bitchy little twink who gave you the cold shoulder for the next week except for these snide little remarks that were, like, _just short_ of outing you in front of your friends. Fuck. Do I even wanna know how he really reacted?"

Jack can't help smiling, because his boyfriend is perfect. "Well, I flew out like a day and a half later, and we didn't talk much before that, but mostly because I kind of avoided him. But he snuck cookies into my suitcase when I wasn't looking."

Jack has to admit, Kent's reaction is a thing of beauty. He splays himself across his chair, hands over his face, and makes noises that Jack can only compare to a dying cow. Not that he's heard a cow die.

"You're killin' me, Smalls!"

And Jack knows that there probably is a little bit of actual hurt, of actual jealousy, under the show, which means that it's sort of mean of him to go on. But Kent's the one who got him on the subject of Bitty, and he's no good at all at not bragging about his boyfriend on the rare occasion that he can actually do so.

"First chance he got after break, he checked in to make sure I was okay."

Kent balls up his linen napkin and throws it, Jack batting it away just before it smacks him in the face.

"Never mind, bro, I don't even wanna date you if I have to be that fuckin' nice all the time."

"He's not nice _all_ the time." Jack grins. "Like I said, he can be a passive-aggressive little shit when he wants to be. I should know, I was on his bad side long before I got on his good side. But what he always is, is kind. Even when he didn't like me, when I was terrible to him, he was kind to me. The next time you meet him, he'll only be nice to you because I've asked him to be, but if you were in need of kindness, he'd give it to you without thinking about it, because… he doesn't know how else to be. Even to people he hates."

"I think I just puked in my mouth a little. But on the up side, at least he hates me. It's not jealousy, but I'll take it."

—

Eric is about to give up reading his statistics textbook, his eyelids drooping, when Jack calls.

"Hey baby," he murmurs sleepily into the phone. "How'd it go with Parse?"

"It went okay," Jack says, and he sounds like he means it. "I think I got through to him. Maybe we can be friends."

"That's great, sweetie," Eric replies, and part of him means it. "Do I get any deets?"

Jack laughs. "I suppose. It, um. Well, it didn't start off so good. He hit on me, I turned him down, we both got pissy. Then he, ah. He claimed he's still in love with me." There's no laughter left in Jack's voice by the end.

"You think that's true?" Eric asks carefully.

"No, no," Jack says quickly. "Definitely not. I told him he doesn't even know me anymore, he's in love with the idea of a boy he used to know, not with me."

"Fair enough," Eric says, though he thinks Jack might be giving Parse too much credit. "But do you think it's true that he's in love with anything, and not just trying to manipulate you?"

Jack pauses.

"Yeah," he finally says. "At least, I think he thinks it's true. He never really let himself get over me the way I got over him. I made a clean break, while he kept hanging on, hoping I'd come back to him. And I mean, that's a little my fault, because I never explained what was happening with me. I never even really told him we were over, not until years after the fact, the first time he chased me down at Samwell."

"I would think that a couple years of no contact is a pretty good sign your relationship is over," Eric replies, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He just has such a hard time feeling sorry for Kent Parson.

"I know. I said it was a _little_ my fault. He should have moved on, but he didn't, not really. But he seemed to accept that I'm a different person now, a person he doesn't know anymore, and we have to get to know each other again before we can even be friends."

"You were clear, the way you worded that, right?" Eric knows Jack isn't always the best with words, with choosing the right ones for his intended message. "He's not holding onto some hope that you're gonna get to know each other again so that you can get back together?"

"I told him. About you. Well, I told him I had a boyfriend, and he, ah. He guessed."

Eric feels his face twist in incredulity. "…He guessed it was _me?_ "

"Yeah." There's a ghost of laughter in Jack's voice again now. "After he saw us together that night, he knew. How I felt about you. Said we were both being obvious."

Eric lets out a huff of disbelief. They've talked about that night, more than once. He knows by now that the pull he thought he was imagining between them was real, that Jack thinks if Kent had shown up, there's at least a chance they would have kissed that night. Apparently Jack had known he'd been attracted to Eric for a long time, but that night was the first time he'd realized that his longing to be closer, to touch, to take up all of Eric's attention, meant more. The longer they'd hung out, talking and laughing and ignoring the party around them, the more he'd managed to convince himself that maybe if he wanted more, he could _have_ more.

Then Kent had come along and reminded him why that was a terrible idea.

Eric really, really does not like Kent Parson.

"Well, maybe you were obvious to someone who knew you liked boys. I mean, after that night, I was wondering and all, but I definitely wouldn't call it 'obvious'."

"He's pissed that you're not jealous of him."

Eric laughs out loud. "Good! Oh. Sorry. I just…"

"It's fine." Jack is laughing, too, so Eric doesn't feel too bad.

"I know you, Jack. I know you wouldn't cheat, and I know if we break up the last thing you're gonna do is go running back to Kent, especially when he lives all the way across the country."

Jack is quiet for a minute.

"…You're not, right?" Eric asks jokingly, but there's a thread of worry curling in his stomach at Jack's silence. Misplaced worry, _of course_ , but still.

"No, of course not, that's not why…" Jack sighs. "Someday, I will find the right words to convince you, how much you mean to me. Those are perfectly good reasons not to be jealous, but the main reason is that anything I had or could have with Kent can't hold a candle to what I have with you."

Eric can feel himself blushing even though they're on the phone.

"Well, good," he says softly. "I like hearing that."

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr.](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com)
> 
> The Kent part of this fic was basically me trying to work through my Kent Parson issues. Figuring out how Kent and Jack can be friends. The things he says to Jack at the epikegster aren't just mean, they're extremely manipulative in a very calculated way. They sound exactly like things I've heard come out of the mouths of men who've abused me or my family. The fact that he's well-liked by everyone but Jack doesn't really matter - every manipulative abuser I've known has been good enough at manipulation that they know how to make people like them. They're charming and a good friend to everyone other than the person/people they're abusing, which is why people often don't believe abuse allegations at first. Honestly, the fact that everyone else finds him so charming makes me trust him even less.
> 
> Reading the stuff he says in that comic makes me physically nauseous. However, I love a lot of fanon Kents! Fandom has had a lot of fun with him. And Jack has been through enough - I don't _want_ Kent to have been an emotionally abusive asshole to him when they were dating. A lot of the fanon Kents I like don't really bridge that gap, though - they don't explain why he was _so_ awful to Jack at epikegster if he wasn't always that way, or hold him accountable for it.
> 
> So anyhow, this was my attempt at taking what we've been given in canon and trying to find a way from there to a potentially healthy friendship between Jack and Kent going forward. To figure out a backstory that does not involve Kent regularly telling Jack that everyone will figure out he's worthless. Where he's a situational douchebag, not a habitual one. Mostly because I really needed to know that it was possible. Hopefully neither Kent stans nor Kent haters will entirely hate it.
> 
>  **Post-update edit:** Well, aside from jossing this all to hell and back, finding out that Jack and Kent have very different perspectives on their previous relationship is _super interesting_ and changes everything. Doesn't mean Kent wasn't a manipulative asshole at epikegster, though - I'm just more confident now that it was a situational thing and not a pattern of behavior.


End file.
